


Collections

by DanielleKolleen



Category: Spider-Man (Video Games 2018-2020), Spider-Man - All Media Types
Genre: Gen, Hurt Peter Parker, Nurse MJ, One Shot
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-03-16
Updated: 2021-03-22
Packaged: 2021-03-24 19:08:05
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 3
Words: 3,059
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/30076965
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DanielleKolleen/pseuds/DanielleKolleen
Summary: A series of one shots inspired by the collectible items and / or off-handed comments made by characters in the Spider-Man and Spider-Man: Miles Morales video games.Chapter 3: While Spider-Man aids police in the raid on Fisk Towers, May watches from F.E.A.S.T.
Relationships: Peter Parker/Mary Jane Watson
Comments: 7
Kudos: 27





	1. The First of Many

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So throughout playing Spider-Man (and Miles Morales), every time I found a collectible, or someone said something interesting, I thought to myself, 'there's a story here'. So, forever later, I've pulled myself out of fanfiction retirement to just go for it and drop it here and just write because you know what, screw it, right? All fics in this little compilation take place in the Video Game universe and are based entirely on snippets / collectibles in the games.
> 
> Now, for chapter-specific notes: going by the game timeline, Peter and MJ would've been between 15-16 at this time. MJ knows Pete's Spider-Man. Enjoy!

In retrospect, laughing probably wasn’t the best reaction to Fisk wielding a katana.

In Fisk’s massive hands, the katana looks as big as a toothpick and Peter, convinced that Fisk is more collector than practitioner, perceives it at just about as harmless as one against his superior speed and agility.

That’s his first mistake.

His second, predictably, is _laughing_ about it.

He didn’t expect it to catch him in the gut right as he’d flipped (what he’d thought was) out of range.

He also expected it to hurt more. The katana cut like a surgeon’s scalpel – so sharp he didn’t even realize what’s happened until it was too late. Now, sealed with webbing that doesn’t quite stop the bleeding, it hurts so much he can barely walk straight.

“Hey MJ. Long time no see – no, that’s stupid. You just saw her at school.” Peter murmurs under his breath. Each step spreads fire from the wound in his stomach. Peter walks slowly, one hand over the dissolving webbing, the other grasping at the chain link fence to keep himself steady. “MJ! So, I was in the neighborhood and I thought—“

He trips over nothing, knees hitting concrete Peter doubles over with as harp hiss of pain, pressing firmer on the web. He can feel blood against his fingers, warm and sticky.

_Oh, not good, not good..._

Sweat dripping from his brow, he looks up. MJ’s house is just the next one over. Gritting his teeth, Peter pulls himself back up to his feet, the links in the fence leaving thick grooves on the joints of his fingers. “C’mon Spider-man,” he whispers to himself, “If you can swing halfway across Manhattan like this, you can make a couple more steps.”

He makes it through the gate, hears it click back into place behind him, and with a heavy sigh that’s not quite relief, he looks up at the amber light in MJ’s window. Peter lifts his free hand, two middle fingers pressing to the trigger of his web shooter. A single line shoots out, creates a perfect spider web in the corner with just enough of a _thud_ to get MJ’s attention.

She appears for a moment a silhouette in the window and then, it feels like he blinks and she’s running through the front door and her call of ”Peter?” sounds like it’s coming from the outside of a fishbowl. Peter tries to smile (doesn’t realize it’s more of a grimace). He waves weakly.

“Hey, MJ,” Peter says. His words, slurring, barely loud enough for her to hear. The world spins, he sinks to his knees, “Long time no—“

He doesn’t remember hitting the ground.

* * *

Mary Jane's heart is hummingbird bound by the cage of her ribs. She throws open her front door, sprints down the walkway to Peter, who’s just collapsed; Peter, who’s unconscious –

“Pete,” she gasps. On her knees beside him, she turns him over onto his back, resting his head in her lap. She can hear his shallow breathing like a rattle in his chest and though she can't see through the mask how tightly his jaw is clenched, she can feel it in every muscle in his body. “Pete? C’mon, wake up,”

She pats lightly against his cheek with one hand and she can't tell if his eyes are open and it's _so frustrating_ and - 

And there — his head moves, tilts toward her and she thinks that he's looking at her.

“MJ,” he rasps, and for fuck’s sake he _laughs_ and she’s so relieved she can’t help but do the same.

“Oh my God, Peter,” she says with a half-hysterical laugh. Now that he’s conscious (even if only a little), she looks him over, hands smoothing down his chest for wounds that aren't as obvious as the web-covered something across his stomach and as it reaches that he stiffens. A sharp hiss of pain has her pulling back with a start. _Oh, this is bad._

“Alright, Tiger,” she says shakily. She ducks down and pulls his arm over her shoulders, her free arm wrapping around his middle and slowly, but steadily, she pulls him up. Peter groans, his entire body tightening, a protest to the movement. "I know it hurts, but you've got to get up. You need a hospital,"

"No—" He says it, but MJ ignores it when instead of fighting her, he helps to steady himself, valiantly taking as much of his own weight as he can so she doesn't bear the burden. 

"That's it," She encourages. Ok; car first, then hospital, then begging the surgeon or whoever comes to help him _not_ to take off the mask because if they _do_ —

_Stop. Focus. Don't panic._

Easier said than done.

* * *

MJ opens passenger's seat door and eases Peter into the seat. "Wait here, ok?" She says. He makes a sound that she takes as an 'ok' and then she's gone. Peter takes the opportunity to breathe, struggling through the mask — that's not good is it? Dazed, he looks down at the wound. 

He's slow to react when MJ comes back, his body catching up with the impulse to look at her _after_ the car's already been started. She's pulling on her seatbelt.

"Fasten—" she starts to say, then she shakes her head and shifts the car into drive. 

"Your dad's not gonna be happy about this," Peter tells her slowly. Every word is a chore, slow as molasses, tinged with pain. MJ doesn't look at him, her eyes straight ahead as she turns onto the road, knuckles white around the wheel. "I'll try not to bleed on the upholstery," 

It's a joke, but she's not laughing. She's not even smiling. Instead, she asks, "What happened?"

“Fisk,” Peter manages. He presses a hand back over the wound, hisses at the pressure, “Sealed it with some webbing, but it’s dissolving. Word of advice: swords are never not dangerous,”

“ _Swords_?” MJ echoes. She looks at him in shock and a horn blares outside and, swerving, she focuses back on the road. Peter grits his teeth as he's jostled in his seat, steadying himself with a hand on the dashboard. “Peter what—"

"We'll talk later," he interrupts. He's glad she can't see his half-lidded eyes, they way he stares unfocused on the street lights ahead, counting, counting —

He must doze off because suddenly, he's being pulled out of the car, onto something —a stretcher, he realizes belatedly. Blinking open his eyes, he feels a finger hook under the base of his mask and —

"Don't," he croaks. The hand that stops the nurse's is more reflex than intentional and he knows it's not really tight enough to stop them, but it does. "Please,"

There's a moment of deliberation, words he barely understands until finally, a quiet reassurance, "The mask stays on, Spider-man"

He catches a final glimpse of MJ before he's wheeled away and she stands, blood on her shirt, on her jeans, on her hands. "Sorry," he whispers.

And she smiles. It's half-hearted, and tired, and full of worry, but it comes with a promise, "We'll talk later,"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Do houses in Manhattan have driveways? Does it make sense that doctors and nurses don't take off Spider-man's mask? Well, it does now. And the nurse who made the call may or may not become a recurring role? Who knows.


	2. Be Better

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "I jumped. Off a bridge. In Queens,"
> 
> When an attempt to test the limits of his powers ends in a broken toe, Miles gets a late-night visit (and scolding) from Peter.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Not strictly an in-game collectible, but inspired by a moment of dialogue in the "Turf Wars" DLC where Miles calls Peter from a hospital and tells him that he broke a toe jumping off a bridge in Queens. It's little bits like this that I forget about that really help the replayability factor.

“Well, on the bright side, now we know you can survive a jump like that,” Ganke enthuses. He spins slowly on the rolling desk-chair as Miles, with a heavy sigh, sets his phone face down on the bed beside him.

“Yeah, I guess,” he murmurs. He looks down at his foot and though he can’t see the makeshift splint, he can feel it when he tries to move his toes, wincing slightly at the dull ache that follows. “Probably not gonna do it again, though,”

“I mean, not to say I told you so but—“

“I know, Ganke, you told me so,” It’s been over an hour since his conversation with Peter and he still hears the exasperated disappointment – Miles, you can’t be doing stuff like that.

Well, he knows now.

“Maybe we can try something else next time. Something like – I don’t know, a little less –“ Ganke’s mouth drops mid-sentence- his eyes going wide. A tap on the window behind him has Miles turning to the fire escape where, lo and behold, Spider-Man stands.

“Dude,” Ganke whispers behind him. Spider-Man waves, then points a finger up, and then with a backflip off the fire-escape, he webs himself up.

Oh, man. Hopping off the bed, Miles grabs his hoodie and web-shooters from his desk. “Be right back, Gank,” he says over his shoulder before pulling open the window and hopping lithely out onto the fire escape. He doesn’t hear what Ganke says – if he says anything with how star struck he is, as he webs himself up behind Spider-Man.

He lands clumsily on the ledge and nearly tips backwards before regaining his balance and jumping much less gracefully down onto the rooftop. Spider-man, crouched on one of the water-tower support beams, jumps off with a front flip to walk over to Miles.

For what feels like the hundredth time today, Miles is acutely aware of how big these shoes are.

“How’s the foot?” Peter asks, and Miles can’t see his eyes under the mask but he knows that Peter’s looking him over, searching for any other injuries. Miles shrugs, lifts the offending foot as if to show him, then lets it back down. He favors it, carrying most of his weight far back on his heel.

“Not unbearable,” he says. “Just annoying,”

“Miles,” Peter begins, and Miles grimaces at the tone. He can hear the lecture coming. Brow furrowing, Miles lowers his gaze.

“I know,” he interrupts before Peter can even get started, “I know, Pete. I said, I’ll do better,”

“I know you will, Miles, but that’s not really the point.” Peter sighs, and Miles imagines him carding a hand through his messy brown hair as he tilts his head back to look at the cloudy sky. “Look, I get the temptation to test the limits. Trust me. But the risk isn't worth the reward -- assuming there even is a reward,"

Peter pauses and Miles looks at him, looking like a child being scolded for bad behavior.

Under the cover of the water tower, the mask comes off. Peter looks tired and Miles finds his attention drawn immediately to a black eye and he notices for the first time how tired Peter looks. How what he thought were shadows are burns in his suit, nicks and tears.

He leans on the edge of an AC unit, breathing a sigh. “It’s not worth the risk, Miles,” he decides, meeting the boy’s eyes. Miles can’t hold his gaze, looking at a spot just to Peter’s left. “We can take a punch and we can heal faster than the average Joe, but we’re still human.”

“I know,” Miles says again.

And again, Peter sighs. “I know, you know,”

Silence. Miles shifts his feet uncomfortably, kicking at a piece of trash. It rustles over the concrete floor beneath them, stopping against the water tower.

“How did you do it?” Miles asks at last. “How’d you figure it out?”

Miles watches Peter work his jaw in quiet deliberation – like he’s chewing on the question. Or maybe the answer.

“I haven’t,” he admits. “Not really,”

Miles blinks, surprised, “So then how did you know you’d be able to take a hit from someone like – I don’t know. Rhino?”

“I didn’t,” Peter says.

“Then why—“

And then it sinks in. Peter doesn’t test the threshold of his strength. He throws himself into the line of fire and hopes for the best. The first time Peter Parker jumped in front of Rhino’s bulldozer charge, he knew full well he might not walk away from it.

And he did it anyway.

Peter breathes a laugh. “Yeah, not much better, is it?” he allows. “Don’t misunderstand me though, Miles. Our job’s not to throw ourselves into the fire; it’s to put it out. Sometimes in the thick of a fight, things happen that we can’t control but…”

“But don’t go looking for it,” Miles cuts in with a weary smile. “Yeah, I got it, Pete. Don’t jump in front of charging Rhino’s unless someone’s life depends on it,”

Peter smiles, ruffles Miles’ hair from outside his hood and Miles’s lips quirk into a lopsided grin as he ducks away from it. “Maybe let me do the jumping for a while anyway,” Peter corrects. The mask comes back on and, jumping up, Peter backflips onto the side of the water tower.

“Where’re you going?” Miles asks, looking up. He doesn’t miss the way that Peter holds onto his side.

“Oh, you know. Swinging around. Taking down the Maggia. The usual,” Peter quips. He jumps so quickly back into his persona that it gives Miles whiplash. “You rest that toe for a couple days. Got to be fighting fit this weekend for your next lesson,”

“Spidey-sense?” Miles asks, remembering their earlier phone call.

“Among other things,” Peter teases. He shoots a web at the neighboring building. “Don’t go jumping off any bridges before then, Spider-Man,” he adds.

And then, he jumps, falls halfway down the building before his web snaps him forward into a wide swing. He’s gone before Miles can even turn around to watch him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Peter Parker being a worried big brother to Miles Morales is one of my favorite things. That's all. Also I don't know why that second footnote is here but you know what, it's fine, I guess? How does AO3 work guys?


	3. For A While

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> While Spider-Man aids police in the raid on Fisk Towers, May watches from F.E.A.S.T.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Another, 'not really a collectible' chapter. During the fight against Fisk at the beginning of the game, Spider-Man gets a phone call from May Parker who, we learn later in game, knows who he is. The realization that that's a not a coincidence gave me a fun little idea to write a short little chapter of that moment from May's perspective. Those who have played will recognize the dialogue because what's there is literally pulled straight from the scene. Hope you enjoy??

“Set that box right over there,” May says, pointing to an empty space on the corner of one of the stainless steel kitchen islands. The delivery man heaves the box up and May, clip-board in hand, counts the contents with the tip of her pencil.

“We have… three more?” She asks. The man checks her numbers against his own manifest.

“Four, Mrs. Parker,” he corrects. He’s already backing out into the hall, “We’ll bring ‘em right-“

Someone zips passed them, sprinting into the café and nearly taking the poor man down with them. May gasps as he stumbles, then catches himself, and as he glares angrily after the person – one of their tenants, May recognizes – she watches three more hurry after.

“What’s going on?” She asks after them. One – a teenage boy staying here with his mom, skip-hops and turns, pacing a couple of steps backwards.

“There’s a shootout up at Fisk Tower!” he explains. Turning to join his friend, he shoots over his shoulder, “Spider-Man’s there!”

And just like that, May’s heart sinks. The delivery man shoots her a look and she says nothing as she hurries – walking, not running – down the hall to join a growing crowd in front of an old flat screen television in the common room.

There it is: Fisk Tower ablaze. Reporters filming from rooftops nearby, police and thugs shooting it out in the street. May searches the screen for a sign of Spider-Man’s red suit.

Leaving the delivery man to watch the spectacle, May turns right back around, walking to the emptier, far end of the common room. From here, she can’t be heard, but she can still see the television. And maybe, people won’t notice how stressed _she_ is.

She takes out her phone, presses Peter’s name on the screen and it rings once. Twice. Three times –

“Uh… hi Aunt May,”

And May almost sighs in relief, but she’s had practice with this sort of thing. She keeps her voice carefully controlled, adds just the right amount of confusion when she asks, “What is all that noise?”

And his lie – it comes so naturally, so smoothly off his tongue that he almost believes her. Another look at the television and she sees a man get thrown out of a window, then suspended in air by a web shot from within. As far as superhero movie’s go, this, she supposes, is close.

So May puts on a smile, makes sure he can hear it, “I just want to make sure we’re still on for dinner tomorrow night,” she says – and there’s a muffled grunt. Some shouting – _Kill him!_ She thinks she hears. _Why won’t you die?!_

She really can’t keep that smile. Her heart twists, and she feels sick to her stomach every time she hears the blast of gunfire, and she thinks of Ben, even as Peter promises they’re still on –

“Uh, listen… I gotta go,” he says.

That brings her back. “Okay,” she says after a pause. “Love you,”

“Love you too!” comes his reply – chipper, and nonchalant, and so, so confident. Too confident. she sometimes worries. She fears every day that hubris of his will be the death of him. May lowers her phone, holding it close to her chest and she stares at the TV from a distance, watching the headlines scroll across the bottom of the screen. Looking for –

_Now, stop that_ , she tells herself. Breathing deep. Peter will be fine. Peter is _always_ fine – even if he does come out a little roughed up.

So May stands. And she watches. And when the building explodes and the rest of the spectators gasp, her grip on her phone tightens, and she’s tempted, so tempted, to call again and make sure, make sure, make sure –

_You’ll only distract him_ , she reminds herself. And how many times has she had to say it? How many times has she sat in front of a television and watched as Spider-Man saved the day. How many times as she peeked into Peter’s room when they lived together to find him gone – to later that night hear a news story about Spider-Man’s latest success.

How many times has her nephew – the only son she’s ever known, the only family she has left – come home barely able to stand straight and still smiled and helped her with whatever mundane tasks she’s asked him to do?

She knows he’ll be alright, because he’s always alright, but she can’t help but worry. Some superstitious part of her fears that if she doesn’t – if she’s not here to watch the news cast, to see it through to the end, to catch a glimpse of Spider-Man swinging away from danger – that he won’t.

And there, after what feels like ages but really is only another ten minutes, Fisk is brought out wrapped in webbing, his hands cuffed behind his back for additional restraint. May doesn’t look at him, couldn’t care less for the man. Instead, she watches the building behind him until –

There. A flash of red and blue that the cameraman also catches and them there’s Peter, holding his side, his suit torn, but still swinging.

And now, finally, May can breathe.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I actually really like writing these little May Parker moments, so I may or may nor write more (No pun intended). Knowing that she knows who Peter is in this game just adds a little extra nuance that you don't notice the first time around. Maybe some of those calls aren't entirely accidental. Maybe that conversation in FEAST before she gets her cake means a little more. I love the dimensions and I love how hard she works to keep up the pretense of a secret.


End file.
